Four Ways
by elbcw
Summary: One of them is hurt, the others provide the comfort. Please read the authors note within or you may get a bit confused!
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: This is the same situation told four times, but with a different injured man each time. Their reactions and the reactions of the others are different each time (I have not simply changed the names around!). You can read all four, I believe they are suitably different, or just read the one(s) for the musketeer(s) you like to see hurt the most.

D'Artagnan

Porthos kicked the door open. The farmhouse had clearly been abandoned for some time, the air was musty. Dust, disturbed by his sudden entrance, floated up. The big musketeer stalked through the living area to a bedroom at the rear of the small building. He gave the small bed he found there a kick before grunting with satisfaction. The frame was not rotten, it would do for what they needed it for.

'In here,' he called over his shoulder as he straightened up the threadbare blanket that covered the lumpy old mattress.

He turned to help Aramis with d'Artagnan. The young man was pale and barely conscious, the arm of his doublet stained with blood. They manoeuvred the injured man onto the bed. Aramis began undoing the buttons on the front of his jacket.

'Let's get this off you, then we can see the extent of the damage, hey, d'Artagnan, you still with me?'

The cadet nodded slightly. He hissed with pain as Aramis began to push the leather off his shoulder and down his injured arm. Porthos steadied the young man who swayed as the garment was pulled off. He looked up at Athos who was hovering in the doorway, an unusual look of guilt about his face.

'This weren't your fault Athos,' said Porthos firmly, 'none of us saw the fifth man coming up, he could have swung at any one of us.'

Athos shook his head and turned from the room back towards the living area of the farmhouse, Porthos could hear a metallic clang and then the sound of the door opening and closing.

'He'll be fine, it's d'Artagnan I'm worried about,' said Aramis, drawing Porthos' attention back to their wounded friend.

Divested of his doublet d'Artagnan was staring at his blood-stained shirt. He winced as Aramis ripped the fabric so that he could gain access to the injury.

Porthos handed Aramis a wadded-up bandage which the field medic used to wipe away the worst of the blood.

'Have you had stitches before?'

D'Artagnan looked up at Aramis, his eyes wide, 'once, when I was a child…but I can't remember it very well.'

Porthos placed his hand on the young man's shoulder, 'Aramis is not just the best marksman I know, his stitching is the neatest I have ever had, you're in good hands.'

D'Artagnan managed a faint smile before returning his gaze to the sword wound on his bicep. He blinked a few times before swaying, Porthos helped Aramis to arrange the young man to lie on the bed.

The door to the farmhouse opened again, Athos returned to the room with a pot full of water. He set if down beside Aramis who was kneeling by the bed as he rolled out his medical kit on a small table.

Porthos noticed that Athos still looked full of guilt, he sighed knowing that the man felt responsible for their young cadet.

'Do you want to hold him,' said Porthos indicating d'Artagnan who looked a little confused at the remark, 'or assist Aramis?'

When Athos did not respond Porthos moved around to the other side of the bed and sat beside the injured man before speaking again.

'Getting stitches hurts, believe me I know, and you will probably try to push Aramis off, so I am going to have to hold you still…do you understand?'

D'Artagnan nodded slightly and did not complain as Porthos pulled him up and encircled the young man's chest with his arms, pinning his uninjured arm in the process. Porthos nodded to Aramis.

'OK, I have to clean the wound first…Athos?'

Athos handed Aramis a fresh bandage before pulling the stopper from a small bottle of alcohol. Aramis dampened the cloth he was holding and wiped it across the wound causing the injured man to hiss with pain. Porthos held him still, but d'Artagnan had not moved too much. He did however pull away when the spirit was poured over the injury.

'I know, I'm sorry, but it will limit the chance of the wound becoming infected,' said Aramis sympathetically.

D'Artagnan was breathing quickly, his eyes screwed shut, Porthos smoothed the young man's hair back, a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead. He watched as Aramis readied a needle and thread.

'Now, don't watch the stitches going in or it will feel worse than it is,' said Aramis keeping his voice calm he glanced up at d'Artagnan who still had his eyes shut before looking across to Porthos who was smirking.

'Don't think he intends to look anyway.'

As Aramis pushed the needle in for the first stitch the young man tensed up and moved his legs, Athos leaned over and firmly restrained him. Porthos held the injured arm still so that Aramis could work. D'Artagnan was panting and clearly struggling not to cry out in pain. As the second stitch was pushed through the skin the young man tried to pull away again, but the men holding him did not let him move too far. The third stitch proved too much for d'Artagnan, who with a strained cry passed out, his features remained pained for a few more seconds before his muscles relaxed.

Athos released his hold on the cadet's legs and sat back on his heels looking up at his fellow Musketeers, 'sorry, I should not have let him accompany us…he is not ready for this.'

'If he hadn't been with us, I doubt we would 'ave been able to win that skirmish,' said Porthos as he adjusted his hold on the unconscious man so that Aramis could access the wound with ease.

'He's a good swordsman,' said Aramis without looking up from his work, 'he'll be as good as you one day.'

'He could have been killed today.'

'Any one of us could be killed any day…Athos, he wants to be a Musketeer, he knows the risks…you will not be able to protect him forever,' admonished Aramis as he finished the final stitch and cut the remaining thread.

Athos rose to his feet, his face pensive, 'you are right,' he said, 'but I am still going to worry about him.'

'As we all will,' said Porthos.

Porthos gently moved the cadet to lie on his own on the bed whilst Aramis wrapped a clean bandage around the now stitched wound.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Athos

Aramis kicked the door open. The farmhouse had clearly been abandoned for some time, the air was musty. Dust, disturbed by his sudden entrance, floated up. The marksman moved through the living area to a bedroom at the rear of the small building. He gave the small bed he found there a shove before smiling with satisfaction. The frame was not rotten, it would do for what they needed it for.

'In here,' he called over his shoulder as he straightened up the threadbare blanket that covered the lumpy old mattress.

D'Artagnan, was taking most of Athos' weight as Aramis crossed the room to help his friend with the injured man. Although Athos would never admit that he was struggling to stand, despite the obvious loss of blood. The man was pale and breathing shallowly. They manoeuvred Athos onto the edge of the bed. Athos tried to undo his doublet, Aramis batted his hands away with a sigh.

'Let me do it,' he said firmly, earning himself a glare from the swordsman.

'I am perfectly capable of undressing,' replied Athos as he again tried to undo his jacket.

'And I don't want you to put any more strain on that arm than you have to, so let me help you.'

Athos acquiesced and dropped his arms wincing as the movement pulled on the wound. Aramis gave him a pointed look, Athos looked away. Aramis found it amusing that his friends frequently chastised him for not admitting he was injured and here he was with an obviously injured Athos who seemed to be denying the sword wound to his arm was even there. Although, thought Aramis, Athos was probably embarrassed at being injured. The skirmish should have been an easy one to deal with and would have been had they not been surprised by the fifth attacker sneaking up behind the swordsman.

Porthos entered the room with a jug of water, 'found a well round the back,' he said as he set the jug down beside Aramis, who was kneeling beside Athos, examining the injury. The wound was deep and had bled significantly. Athos was probably only conscious due to his own stubbornness.

'Wine?'

Aramis smirked as Porthos chuckled and handed Athos the wineskin he had pulled from Athos' saddlebag. Aramis had to steady the skin as Athos took a couple of swigs, his hand shaking. Once finished he allowed Aramis to help him lie on the bed. Athos was pale from the loss of blood; his eyes did not seem to be focused. Aramis wondered how long it would take for his friend to pass out.

D'Artagnan had moved to the other side of the bed and climbed on next to Athos who glared at him. D'Artagnan ignored his friend and pushed him up slightly to sit behind him, Athos tried to pull away, but the young musketeer gave him little chance to get far. Once he had made himself comfortable and arranged Athos to his liking he looked across to Aramis and nodded. Athos did not look happy.

Aramis sighed before saying, 'Athos, you have been hurt, you have lost blood. Stop pretending that you are OK. You are not showing weakness by allowing us to help you.'

Athos did not respond; the medic did not expect him to. Porthos handed Aramis a damp cloth to clean the wound, then passed him the small bottle of spirits.

Aramis glanced at d'Artagnan who nodded again to indicate that he was ready for the inevitable reaction. Athos tensed up when the liquid was poured over the wound but managed to remain still. Sweat began to bead on his forehead.

Once satisfied that the injury was clean Aramis threaded the needle and leaned forward to begin the stitching. Athos remained tense holding his breath as each stitch went in. He did not cry out and barely moved. Aramis could, however, feel the slight shake coming from the man who was clearly in a lot of pain.

'You can pass out you know…we won't hold it against you,' said Porthos from behind Aramis.

Athos was panting, breathing hard, but he remained awake, watching Aramis pushing the needle into his flesh. Athos was clearly struggling to stay conscious. As the last stitch was cut Athos lost his battle, he went limp in d'Artagnan's arms.

'I've never met a more stubborn man,' said Aramis reaching for the fresh bandage that Porthos was holding out to him.

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Porthos

Athos kicked the door open. The farmhouse had clearly been abandoned for some time, the air was musty. Dust, disturbed by his sudden entrance, floated up. The swordsman marched through the living area to a bedroom at the rear of the small building. He gave the small bed he found there a nudge before nodding with satisfaction. The frame was not rotten, it would do for what they needed it for.

'In here,' he called over his shoulder as he straightened up the threadbare blanket that covered the lumpy old mattress.

Aramis, his arm around Porthos' waist guided his wounded friend towards the bed. Athos helped to lower the big musketeer down to sit on the edge.

'You ain't knocking me out like last time,' Porthos said his words slightly slurred.

'Are you going to behave then?' asked Aramis as he began undoing the injured man's doublet.

Porthos grunted, then hissed in pain as his wounded arm was manipulated out of the leather garment. Athos steadied the big musketeer when he swayed, clearly close to passing out from the loss of blood. Aramis tore the fabric of Porthos' bloodied shirt to better assess the wound. Athos looked over to d'Artagnan who was waiting by the doorway, not wanting to be in the way.

'I saw a well outside, can you see if it still has water?'

The young musketeer nodded and left the room, Athos could hear him searching for a suitable receptacle for the water in the living area of the farmhouse.

Aramis was busy laying out what he would need to stitch the nasty sword wound. Athos passed him a wadded-up bandage with which he wiped away the still oozing blood from Porthos' arm.

'Do you have to press on it that hard,' moaned Porthos as he tried not to pull away from the medic's ministrations.

Aramis rolled his eyes and cocked his head, 'do you want me to sort it out or just leave it to fester?'

Porthos huffed but did not reply. D'Artagnan returned with the water, setting the pot down beside Aramis who dampened the cloth and returned to cleaning the wound, pulling away briefly when Porthos flinched at the touch. Athos made eye contact with Aramis and looked at him sternly. Aramis shook his head.

Athos very much wanted to knock Porthos out, he knew the man tended to be combative when he had stitches but after the previous time they had assured him they would not hit him again.

Athos regretted the decision seconds later.

As Aramis poured alcohol over the wound Porthos reacted with a speed and ferocity neither of them were expecting. He pushed Aramis away with such violence that the medic stumbled backwards several paces and fell over a chair landing in a dishevelled heap on the other side of the room. Athos did not think twice about striking Porthos hard, the injured musketeer slumped back on the bed, finally compliant.

D'Artagnan had crossed the room and was helping the stunned medic to his feet.

'Are you OK?'

'Yes,' replied Aramis blinking a few times, 'he's never done that before.'

'Because we usually knock him out,' retorted Athos, 'can you continue?'

Aramis nodded, 'now that the patient is actually behaving I doubt I will have any further problems.'

D'Artagnan smirked, 'at least we know now that he can't be trusted to be still.'

Aramis returned to Porthos' side, he went back to cleaning the wound. Athos moved to the other side of the bed and leaned over the unconscious man, arranging his injured arm so that it would be easier for Aramis to stitch.

Athos looked up at Aramis as he was threading the needle, he noticed a bruise spreading across his friend's cheek where he had hit the chair after Porthos pushed him away.

'He is going to feel very guilty about that,' he said tapping his own cheek and looking pointedly at Aramis.

'Good,' replied Aramis a little absentmindedly as he pushed the needle through the skin around the wound, 'perhaps that will make him understand that us knocking him out is as much for my benefit as his own.'

Athos chuckled at the remark, he watched in silence for a few minutes as Aramis worked, his dexterous fingers nimbly inserting and retrieving the needle with each stitch. As the final stitch was added Porthos groaned and weakly tried to move away. Athos had no trouble keeping the injured man still. Aramis cut the thread and stood up.

'What 'appened?' said Porthos slowly as he opened his eyes and with a slightly unfocused gaze looked at Athos.

'We were caught in a skirmish with some bandits, one snuck up on you from behind, sliced your arm…'

'I know that…but…did I pass out…' Porthos paused and followed Athos gaze, he refocused on Aramis who was looking down at him with a slightly accusatory expression, the mark on his cheek showing starkly against his pale skin.

'Oh,' said Porthos looking away again.

'You're forgiven,' said Aramis with a smile as he reached for a clean bandage to wrap around the wound.

MMMM


	4. Chapter 4

Aramis

D'Artagnan kicked the door open. The farmhouse had clearly been abandoned for some time, the air was musty. Dust, disturbed by his sudden entrance, floated up. The young man walked through the living area to a bedroom at the rear of the small building. He gave the small bed he found there a kick before stepping back with satisfaction. The frame was not rotten, it would do for what they needed it for.

'In here,' he called over his shoulder as he straightened up the threadbare blanket that covered the lumpy old mattress.

Porthos was trying to help Aramis though the farmhouse, but the marksman was doing his best to walk unaided.

'It's really not that bad,' said Aramis as he sat on the edge of the bed, although he did not protest to Porthos' hands on the buckles of his doublet, his arm hanging limply at his side.

'Yeah, and the blood pouring out of your arm is normal?'

'It's not pouring out…' retorted Aramis before hissing with pain as Porthos pushed the jacket down the injured arm.

D'Artagnan moved forward and grabbed Aramis' shoulders when he swayed and nearly toppled forward. Between them he and Porthos got the injured man to lie on the bed, with Porthos supporting Aramis from behind.

'You need to wash it and use the alcohol to clean the wound,' said Aramis, with a slight slur.

'We know what to do,' said Athos as he entered the room placing a bowl of water on the floor next to where Aramis lay. D'Artagnan watched as Athos rolled out the marksman's medical kit across a small table by the bed.

'Who's going to do the stitching?' he asked glancing up at Athos and then across to Porthos.

'I could stitch it myself.'

'No,' said Porthos firmly pulling Aramis back when the injured man tried to sit forward.

'I will stitch it,' said Athos.

'There are bandages…'

'We know what to do, Aramis,' Athos said again.

D'Artagnan could not help a smirk as he set about pulling a couple of bandages from the bag. He soaked one in the water before handing it to Athos who cleaned up the wound.

'Where did that fifth man come from?' asked d'Artagnan.

'No idea, he must have been watching as we were taking out 'is mates,' replied Porthos as he pulled Aramis back again.

'I might react to the alcohol,' said Aramis who seemed to be unaware of the conversation going on around him, he was intently watching what Athos was doing, 'have you made sure there is no dirt…'

'Aramis,' said Athos looking up at him, 'we know what to do.'

Both d'Artagnan and Porthos were suppressing laughter as Athos spoke to Aramis as if he were a child.

With no warning to the marksman Athos poured the spirit over the wound, Aramis hissed in pain his eyes wide from the shock. Athos lips twitched at the reaction he had elicited.

'Don't push the needle in too close to the wound…'

'Could we knock 'im out to shut him up?' asked Porthos keeping his expression serious, his eyes giving away his true feelings of amusement.

'No,' said Aramis as he again tried to wriggle away from Porthos.

D'Artagnan sat on the end of the bed and grabbed Aramis' legs to keep him still. Athos took the needle and began the first stitch.

'I'm not a pin cushion.'

Athos sat back on his heels and stared at the complaining man.

'You're pushing the needle too deep.'

Athos shook his head then went back to his task. He managed to get two stitches in before Aramis was complaining again through clenched teeth.

'They're still too deep.'

Athos was clearly getting exasperated at the continued interruptions from Aramis. D'Artagnan reached out for the needle and Athos nodded his thanks as they swapped places.

Aramis was panting slightly and looked close to passing out. D'Artagnan hoped he would be able to get the rest of the stitches in without further complaint from his patient. But Aramis clearly had issues with the young musketeers work as well.

'You're tugging at the thread too much, you'll rip the skin.'

D'Artagnan sighed and looked up at Porthos, he held up the needle after finishing another stitch. Porthos understood and gently pushed Aramis forward so that Athos could take his place holding the injured man still.

'I don't want you doing them…'

'Well it's too late now ain't it. You've managed to annoy the two neat tailors…is this why you try to hide injuries, because you don't like other people stitching you up. You don't trust us, do you?'

D'Artagnan watched as Aramis tried to hide his embarrassment. Porthos had clearly worked out what Aramis' problem was.

'You're such a perfectionist,' said Porthos as he pushed the needle into his friend's skin.

Aramis had tensed up as the last few stitches were put in. D'Artagnan was convinced Aramis was going to pass out but he did not.

Porthos finished the final stitch and cut the thread. They were all a bit surprised when Aramis spoke again, quietly.

'Thank you.'

'No problem,' replied Porthos with a smile as he reached for a clean bandage to cover the wound.

MMMM

Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it. I've caught up on my backlog of stories now, so you will have to wait until I have written another (I have two planned out, so hopefully it won't be long). Thanks again for all the lovely reviews you write.


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